The definition of Beauty
by Creeping Imagination
Summary: Amber is a little girl caught up in a womans life, after working at a psychiatric ward for 6 years, she thinks she's seen everything possible, but's she's about to be proven very wrong, when Blaire teaches her how to let her imagination catch her.
1. l'introduction

l'introduction

I spend my life doing the same things everyday, in the case of necessity and fear of what might happen if I broke out, ran away, and did everything my heart weeps and aches to do every single day.

I become so very grossly obsessed, involved and devoured by certain things of which capture my imagination, not that there are many things that actually switch that light in my head on. I'd never met a person who took my interest in that way, that made me sit and stare at every detail of their skin, hair, eyes, movements, speech, voice, smile, until the day I saw him.

His skin was worn, yet young. It looked abused and untouched, like a kiss had never been planted on his frail bones, which stood with such a heavy weight on his shoulders. His hair was a reflection of his emotional state, he hadn't taken care of it, all over the place, outgrown, dark and was exactly the type of hair you wanted to just delve your fingers into, much like I wanted to delve into everything that made him who he was. His eyes were much older then he was, they showed reflections of every little horror he had seen, every tear he'd unwillingly let drop. He didn't like to cry, he didn't like allowing anyone to break him to a point of desperation where he couldn't show what he wanted to say through words anymore, so the only thing left to do, was cry. His eyes showed he wouldn't trust you as far as he could throw you, but he wanted nothing more than to allow himself to love you and for heavens sake, someone love him back. His movements were awkward yet delicate and fluid in motion, every time he stood up, sat down, moved his legs, spoke with his hands he was aware you were watching. It almost seemed like he wasn't used to someone actually seeing him, someone listening to what he had to say, and paying attention.

He speaks with meaning, every word that comes out of his mouth has an emotional attachment, he's thought it through, he knows what he wants to say and sometimes he speaks in a way you won't understand, he gets lost in his own world and when he does, you'll see how invested in it he is, how deeply he concentrates on it, how much he lives in it.

His voice can only be described as comfort. His voice envelopes you in safety, wonder and magic. His voice allows you to daydream, and forget.

He smiles like he's never smiled before, like he appreciates that moment of happiness more than anything in the world, like…..just for that second he's forgotten everything that pushes him down, and he's lost all awareness of the unhappiness he'll continuously dragged around with him.

He's the definition of beauty.


	2. Le Debut

Chapter One.

Le Debut.

I was sat alone in the room, the same room I sit alone in every day, it was painfully quite, the clock ticked every breath and second away, minutes felt like hours, and I was beginning to die a little more every day.

Then there was a knock at the door, "come in" I instructed, replacing my face with my everyday mask that I had become a professional at wearing, I even started to convince myself at one point, until I went home that night and the pain struck me down twice as hard.

In walked a security guard, roughly dragging behind him a boy, or at least what I thought was a boy. "He's just been brought in, he's a new patient, been instructed to bring him to you for an assessment interview", "That's fine, just let him sit down right there" I pointed to the chair on the other side of my desk, the guard mindless chatted about how his weekend away with the boys was, it always surprised me how he would brag and have no shame in cheating on his wife the multiple times that he had, the sickening amount of details he felt the need to share with you, regardless of the fact that you had never even asked. As I began to drift into autopilot and politely nod in all the right places, my real attention drifted to the boy, well not a boy, once the bright light was on his face, I could see he was a man, older than myself in fact. He looked petrified, lost, delicate, but at the same time he looked like you should be the one petrified to be in the same room as him, especially alone. "Well I gotta go, catch ya later, call me up I this wacko does anything ya don't like!" he sauntered out of the room, whistling after one of the nurses and in the meantime, forgetting to close the door behind him. I tutted, "I apologise for his rudeness, some people just don't' know when to stop talking!" I said as I walked past the boy….man, and towards the door to shut it, as ever the handle jammed, I lifted and shoved it, it worked, and the door shut with a horrendous bang!

I went to return to my seat and begin to interview the…man, but as I turned, he was right behind me, his hands were cuffed to the front of him, he left me no room to move, or to breath. His nose to mine and my back to the door, I dared to look up at his face, he was staring me right in the eyes. His eyes flickered, they didn't blink, but flickered, he was searching, looking for something. I stood, wide eyed, feeling like a child staring in to the face of the monster that lives under her bed, I dared not speak, I held my breath, and found it difficult to blink myself. He was fascinatingly beautiful, his eyes alone filled you with a mixture of fear and adoration, there was so much beauty in all the chaotic horror you could see just in his expression, that it flattened you. It made you speechless. Suddenly he blinked, he moved back, and returned to his chair. I stood in shock for a second and copied his movements.

He sat staring at his knees, his jeans were ripped, not for fashion but from wear and tare, he had a bandage around one of his wrists, as he shuffled into the chair the cuff caught the bandage and he winced, "Are you okay?" he didn't reply, didn't acknowledge he had even heard me. I gathered all the paper work necessary to place him as a full time patient; I messed around far longer than I needed too, simply because I wanted to watch him. I felt I was gathering a whole lot more about him by seeing him than I would be talking to him.

Eventually he looked up at me, and caught me staring, he smirked, and returned his stare to his knees, I asked him what his name was, he sat looking as if he was contemplating telling me the truth or not, after a few seconds he raised his head into the full beam of light, glued his dead stare to me and replied "You can call me Blaire or Honey…..whichever you prefer.".


	3. Tuant Tir

Chapter two:

Tuer Tir

The interview was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

He wears an invisible armour that will shoot you down before you even stand up, and something about it is addictive.

I went home at the usual time, arrived back at around 6:30pm, I took my jacket off and placed it on the same hook I've placed it on for three years, I went to the kitchen and made Coffee, the same Coffee I've been drinking for more years than I care to remember. Such a box. A box that I'm trapped in, I built the walls of it, the cardboard steel that holds me in and pushes me back down every time I allow my mind to think of something erratic, something unusual, some thing….enchanting.

My mind goes straight to him now, every last word I used to describe the thoughts I run away from are the only words that describe him perfectly.

The kettle starts to whistle loudly and I snap out of my daydreams, returning to the kitchen I pour the water, when suddenly "Fuck!" I exclaimed as I poured the boiling water on my hand, it had only been a matter of seconds yet my thoughts had gone completely off the task at hand, and back to…_that._

I decided to do more investigation on his past, his case, that must be the only reason why it's taking up my mind so much, it's because I don't understand. I need to learn about him, teach myself every trick of his past, every flaw, every mistake, every happy moment he's ever had and then next week when he returns to sit in the same chair, in the same room, he won't seem like such a big deal, because I'll be able to read him like a book.

Sunlight drowns my room in a golden shimmer and blinds me as I open my eyes. It's ironic how such a beautiful sight can hurt our eyes, it's almost as if it's too beautiful for us to deal with. For a second I was still in my dream, elated, free, exhausted and vibrant. And yet he dominated my dream that night, I was stuck in a pitch black house, there was no lighting, no where familiar, I could hear him shouting my name "AMBER! AMBER!" he yelled for me with panic and fear in his voice, and I was searching for him, terrified that something was hurting him, my heart was breaking into my rib cage, forcing me to choke on my own breaths. I stumbled and felt my way around the walls, and finally found a door. I could hear him inside, crying, whimpering like a small child that lost his mother, I turn the handle and rush into the room to run to him, comfort him, hold him and keep him safe yet…..he's not there.

The door slams ferociously behind me, I was drowned in black, my eyes were open but there was nothing to see, nothing to indicate what was about to happen to me.

Suddenly there's a voice behind me, it sounds far away, it's echoing all around me and I dare not turn around. Before I can even blink the singing voice is at my ear, whispering it's tune, breathing hot air on my neck, and placing a forceful hand on my waist, which grips me in place. I'm going no where and I know it. "Tick tock, Tick tok, such a beautiful shock, and the acid clocks your hours away, tick tok, have another shot, burn your lungs into dust and let your shadow lead the way". He was right behind me, he tricked me, now I was the whimpering child who lost her mother as his hand moved from my waist, and slide long delicate fingers around my throat. "Tick tok, Amber choked, but it doesn't matter, she was dead anyway".


End file.
